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What's up with that?
Sunday, August 30th, 2009 08:26 pmStruggled most of the past two weeks with the memoir.
Eventually turned out something that, while not quite as polished as I would like, was pretty useful, coherent, honest, reflective. You'd have thought I'd be pleased, especially when the comments suggest that my fellow students -- and even my teacher -- think it's a good job. I think so too, even if (I'm still wryly amused) I mixed up the episode that prompted Boyfriend M to walk away from me with the episode that provoked the worst fight Boyfriend R and I ever had. Those events were a couple of years apart, maybe more, but I didn't realize my mistake until I woke up the morning after turning this section in.
But anyway. I am pleased with the work I did, I do think it's a good job. I can already see several ways in which tiny revisions can make it even better.
But, emotionally, it's all flat. I took a break to catch up on reading the blogs of people I care about, and when I came back to be working on it just a day or so later, nothing. Blah. Why bother, oh phooey, who gives a damn about that stuff anyway, same-old-same-old, besides which why do I even want to try to unravel it?
So even though at the end of my allotted 5000 words I felt like I was on a roll and had another 10,000 all cued up to write ... today there's nothing.
I don't much want to write about the episode that really did lead to Boyfriend M walking away -- without so much as a goodbye, which I really hated; he simply refused to ever speak another personal word to me, though we continued to move in the same social circles and constantly run into each other in public for another couple of years. I don't much want to write about the relationship with Boyfriend R, who was so on-the-rebound when we met that I should have had my head examined anyway.
But I also don't much want to write about feeling so desperate for a hug, one night at 35, that I asked my neighbor to babysit and went over to the local bar (in those days I was a non-drinker) just so I could dance. And then at the end of the night had to be fairly persuasive in insisting that I was going home alone, and doing it right now, and no, actually I really did come here just to dance. (Thereby learning that I couldn't go to at least that particular bar if all I wanted was a dance, because the guys I danced with all thought we were all looking to get laid).
I don't much want to write about, well, dozens of things I can remember just fine. I don't much want to look under any of the available rocks to see what I can remember about stuff I don't much think about.
And I also don't feel like reading a book, taking a bath, going for a walk, medicating the cat, cleaning my office, doing laundry, emptying the dishwasher, or any of hundreds of other possibilities.
Just now it seems like what's wrong is that we're more than halfway from Lammas to Mabon, the light is fading, it's been raining too many days, and my mood is just tanking. It's been like this every year, earlier and earlier. I have a lot to do tomorrow; I wonder how I can move myself forward to do it?
Eventually turned out something that, while not quite as polished as I would like, was pretty useful, coherent, honest, reflective. You'd have thought I'd be pleased, especially when the comments suggest that my fellow students -- and even my teacher -- think it's a good job. I think so too, even if (I'm still wryly amused) I mixed up the episode that prompted Boyfriend M to walk away from me with the episode that provoked the worst fight Boyfriend R and I ever had. Those events were a couple of years apart, maybe more, but I didn't realize my mistake until I woke up the morning after turning this section in.
But anyway. I am pleased with the work I did, I do think it's a good job. I can already see several ways in which tiny revisions can make it even better.
But, emotionally, it's all flat. I took a break to catch up on reading the blogs of people I care about, and when I came back to be working on it just a day or so later, nothing. Blah. Why bother, oh phooey, who gives a damn about that stuff anyway, same-old-same-old, besides which why do I even want to try to unravel it?
So even though at the end of my allotted 5000 words I felt like I was on a roll and had another 10,000 all cued up to write ... today there's nothing.
I don't much want to write about the episode that really did lead to Boyfriend M walking away -- without so much as a goodbye, which I really hated; he simply refused to ever speak another personal word to me, though we continued to move in the same social circles and constantly run into each other in public for another couple of years. I don't much want to write about the relationship with Boyfriend R, who was so on-the-rebound when we met that I should have had my head examined anyway.
But I also don't much want to write about feeling so desperate for a hug, one night at 35, that I asked my neighbor to babysit and went over to the local bar (in those days I was a non-drinker) just so I could dance. And then at the end of the night had to be fairly persuasive in insisting that I was going home alone, and doing it right now, and no, actually I really did come here just to dance. (Thereby learning that I couldn't go to at least that particular bar if all I wanted was a dance, because the guys I danced with all thought we were all looking to get laid).
I don't much want to write about, well, dozens of things I can remember just fine. I don't much want to look under any of the available rocks to see what I can remember about stuff I don't much think about.
And I also don't feel like reading a book, taking a bath, going for a walk, medicating the cat, cleaning my office, doing laundry, emptying the dishwasher, or any of hundreds of other possibilities.
Just now it seems like what's wrong is that we're more than halfway from Lammas to Mabon, the light is fading, it's been raining too many days, and my mood is just tanking. It's been like this every year, earlier and earlier. I have a lot to do tomorrow; I wonder how I can move myself forward to do it?